The ocean's feather

A thousand miles or three, some distance more; Does it much matter so, or not at all? Each wave that comes a-lapping at her shore Shall whisper softly, echoing a call Of love; a feather 'neath the ocean's roar, Left lingering, to trace the sand so calm As would my fingers gently stroke her palm. More acrostic love-anguish, I'm afraid (same subject as the last four poems I've submitted, obviously).